


take off your clothes (and with them, every single worry you have ever carried)

by thesecretdetectivecollection



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Stripper AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection
Summary: It's a regular Saturday night with bachelorette parties just winding down when a businessman walks into the club and gestures to Jamie."How much for a private dance?"





	take off your clothes (and with them, every single worry you have ever carried)

There are two bachelorette parties that are just starting to wind down, so Jamie expects the rest of the night to be fairly easy work. He’s barely working the parties anyway, not dancing, just serving drinks. Some of the girls giggle and slide bills into his tight black jeans anyway, and he’s not so wealthy that he’ll turn down a tip, so he smiles as he walks away, hips swaying a little more with that studied sensuality that had become second nature at some point.

Mickey’s up on stage, dancing up on the blushing bride-to-be and slowly stripping off his shirt, and Stevie’s just a few feet away, flirting heavily with the maid of honor. They look good, in the way that all the dancers look good—long, lean legs and carefully bared skin, ties and suspenders over tight white shirts that show off the muscles of their arms.

He barely notices a tired-looking businessman walking in, pristine suit and shiny leather shoes stepping precisely as he walks in and seats himself, waving away the newer lad who walks up to take his order and gesturing at Jamie instead. He nods and finishes serving the drinks, jumping a little as one of the women smacks his backside appreciatively.

He walks over to him afterwards, politely asking what he can do for him.

He’s got red-rimmed eyes with dark circles around them and holds out a handful of hundreds. “Is this enough for a private dance?” he asks quietly.

Jamie’s a bit taken aback, and he looks back at the party, an excuse on his lips about a prior engagement. He looks over at Stevie, who’s glancing over at him even as the maid of honor grabs him by the tie and grinds against him.

He hesitates, but it’s a lot of money. That’s half his rent he’s holding, and it’s far too tempting to say no. So he agrees and shows him to the back of the club, to the booths where the dancers entertain clients privately. He’s wary at first—businessmen are handsy and entitled. But his client just watches him as he grips the pole with one hand and spins smoothly. He sips at his beer as Jamie flips himself up onto the pole and starts on his tricks, and when his feet are back on the ground, the client looks at him.

“What if I wanted a lap dance?” he asks. There’s no polish to his voice, no smoothness, as if he either doesn’t know the niceties of the trade or doesn’t care for them.

Jamie adjusts to his bluntness and meets it. “It’s another couple hundred for a lap dance and striptease.”

The man takes two more hundreds out of his wallet and pulls Jamie by the hips until he’s close enough to press the money into his back pocket. His hand is slow, and he squeezes Jamie’s cheek as he puts the money in and sits back.

Jamie’s still wary, but he hides it with a flirtatious glance as he slips one of the suspenders down. It’s about teasing as much as it is about revealing, he’s learned, and he sways his hips seductively for a few moments, closing his eyes and moving to the music before he lets the other suspender slip off.

A moment later, he’s hovering over the client’s lap, gyrating slowly and letting the man stare at him, the sheen of sweat beginning to form on his neck. The client swallows thickly and looks up at Jamie’s face, and he can see that it’s working, that he’s turned on.

He reaches forward and touches Jamie’s shoulders, pulls him in closer, but Jamie shrugs off his hands. “Touching is extra,” he murmurs, voice low and husky and whispering into the client’s ear, watching the way the man shivers in anticipation.

He pulls away—every now and again, you have to pull away, he’s learned, to let them appreciate his whole body properly, to give them a moment to catch their breath, to make them realize how badly they want him back in their laps.

He dances again—this part, where he’s not hovering close to the client’s lap, this part is just dancing, and it’s easy, almost instinctive. He turns so his back is to the client and slips his shirt off with one hand, a smooth, practiced motion before he turns back slowly, letting him appreciate the muscles of his back before he can ogle at Jamie’s chest and abs.

He wonders for a second, but he glances down and the makeup that he’d applied to the scars helps hide them, and the client isn’t looking at him like he’s hideously disfigured, so he ignores the discomfort he always feels for half a second after taking his top off.

He goes back in, slides ever nearer and dances so close that he can feel the client’s breath on his skin, though he obediently keeps his hands to himself. He’s biting his lip, eyes hungry as he looks at Jamie and so Jamie smiles teasingly and pulls away.

The client pouts for a second, but that ends the moment Jamie slips out of his trousers, leaving just tight black briefs that leave virtually nothing to the imagination. The client’s looking at him, ogling him openly, and when Jamie starts swaying, his eyes follow every move, not blinking and almost not even breathing. Jamie settles over his lap and that’s when he breaks, pulling Jamie in for a hard kiss.

He pulls Jamie into his lap and Jamie freezes in shock, inadvertently allowing the kiss to continue for a moment, but then he hears the distinct sound of a throat clearing and pulls away, turning to look at Stevie and flushing.

“We don’t allow clients to touch our staff like that,” Stevie says professionally, ignoring the grumble from the businessman, “are you okay, James?”

“James,” the client says softly, turning the name over in his mouth, “I like that. Do you wanna get out of here, James?”

Jamie flushes and shakes his head. “I’m in a relationship, actually. This is just my job.”

The businessman rolls his eyes and mutters something about a cheap whore who doesn’t even put out as he leaves, but Jamie ignores him, and as soon as he’s gone, Stevie’s holding him tight.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, love,” Jamie says quietly, “I’m fine, I just—he kissed me, you know that right? I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me.”

“I know, J, I saw how he was looking at you.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” Jamie whispers, kissing Stevie’s cheek, “but he had so much money, it was almost a month’s worth of rent, so I thought it would be worth it, just for a dance—“

“Baby,” Stevie says reassuringly, “it’s fine. I promise you, it’s fine. I’m not upset. I was angry when I saw that he had his hands on you, but I’m not upset about you dancing for him. I just didn’t want to think that you might not be safe and when I saw him touching you like that—I got scared.”

Jamie melts into the embrace, soaking up the warm, familiar attention, so different from the work they do. “Can we go home now?” he murmurs, “tired. Wanna go to bed, love.”

Stevie nods, and they tell Mickey they’re off to go home, and they leave the other staff to clean up. Nobody else complains—they’ve all been in the same position before, with a client who wanted too much.

Jamie takes a quick shower with Stevie, washing off the makeup on his stomach and the smell of the clients’ perfume before they go to bed, and when Jamie wraps his arms around Stevie in the warmth of their own bed, he thinks that they won’t have to worry about rent this month. From here, holding Stevie and smelling the scent that’s entirely his own, it’s all worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a different ending for this, but this one felt more true to the tone of the rest of the work. I hope you guys enjoyed it!


End file.
